The Cold Spot by Tom Piccirilli

Author:Tom Piccirilli
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Criminals, Mystery & Detective, Revenge, Crime, Fiction, Suspense, Thrillers, Suspense fiction, General, Espionage
ISBN: 9780553590845
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2008-04-29T05:44:31+00:00

Two hours later, at 6:10, the woman who called herself Marisa Iverson walked in the front door clutching her purse and the day’s mail. She deactivated and reset the alarm. She put her purse down on the coffee table and tossed the bills in a pile. Then she headed to the bathroom on the first floor. She closed and locked the door. One of those people who followed form even when they were alone in their own houses.

Chase stepped out from the corner of the living room and went through the purse. Another .22. He figured he’d find more goodies in her car, but he’d let that go for the moment. He took her cell phone and checked the numbers. Maybe she’d slipped up and left him a connection to the crew. He pocketed the phone and the revolver. For a guy who hated guns, he was now packing three of them.

When Marisa stepped out of the bathroom he met her in the hall, said, “Hiya,” and clipped her on the chin.

Man she was good.

Even though he’d caught her unaware, she faded back and rolled with the punch. She was lissome as hell and sweet to watch, landing nimbly on the carpet, tucking in, and immediately getting to her feet. He’d hardly even tapped her. He knew it was his own fault. He’d never struck a woman before and had a natural resistance to this kind of situation.

She rubbed the back of her hand against her jaw. No fear in her at all. Completely cool, a total pro, living out on the wire. Maybe she’d been in the bent life since she was a kid, or maybe the crew had picked her up along the way and had taught her well. Chase really wanted to meet this crew.

Marisa Iverson stood and glared at him, her unforgiving mouth tugged into the barest grin. She was maybe thirty, on the pretty side but made down so you wouldn’t notice. He saw that she used eyeshadow, rouge, and lipstick to slightly alter the contours of her face. Blond hair drawn back in a tight ponytail, with two twists framing but obscuring her jawline. Big round glasses concealed a lot of details to her features. It was a damn good disguise.

The bone-colored business suit fit her well, but it still somehow looked all wrong on her. Chase just knew it wasn’t her real style, and he could see the other person beneath emerging now.

A hard-stepper, she always went at life head-on, and took it as rough as she could because she liked it that way.

“And who might you be?” she asked.

Eyes as dark and lifeless as shale. Alert and sharp as she ran through the current setup, figuring all the different angles, already plotting and scheming.

Chase said, “I might be the Minister of Culture and Communications, but I’m not.”

The grin widened. “So sorry to hear that.”

“I’ll bet.”

She had to be wondering if he was just your usual second-story man or a hitter hired by one of the crew to betray the rest.

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